


Rewrite the Stars

by Avasti



Series: Music Prompts: Persona 5 [4]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Parenting, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Makoto and Haru are gay together and no one can stop that ship from sailing, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avasti/pseuds/Avasti
Summary: PLEASE read the tags. Trigger warning for cruel words from parents about their gay son!HUGE shoutout to Bittersweet Tea for their suggestion to use Rewrite the Stars by Zac Efron and Zendaya for a music prompt! You're literally the best! Thank you so muchAkechi and Akira are in a secret relationship before the events of Niijima's palace and they never really stop loving each other.P5R, alternate universe-canon divergence, ng+I was given some criticism (Honestly, thank you anon) and added a second chapter and I kinda love it. Gotta change some tags tho. It gets pretty emotional
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Series: Music Prompts: Persona 5 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707226
Comments: 12
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

Akechi woke up comfortable. He was warm and safe. Wrapped in the arms of the Leader of the Phantom Thieves. He felt the warm breaths tickling the nape of his neck, disturbing the small hairs and causing him to shiver. 

He didn’t want to move yet. Didn’t want to go back to pretending he didn’t love this boy. He didn’t want to continue into the future knowing he would have to kill him. It made him feel sick to remember his excitement, long ago, and the thoughts of shooting Akira.

That was before he’d been accepted. Before Akira had risen to all his challenges and stood in the face of his outbursts and fought against him in the metaverse. Akira had accepted the glove thrown at him with a warm smile and continued inviting him places. To play darts. Join him at the Jazz club. Made him, without a doubt, a Phantom Thief.

He was so screwed.

Akira stirred awake, legs stretching straight out and arms curling tightly around Akechi’s torso and hugging him close. He loved these mornings. Loved when Akira closed the minute distance between them. Loved feeling how perfectly they fit together. But he also hated it. Because it never left the room. They couldn’t hold hands in public. Couldn’t share a dessert at a diner. Akechi was too famous.

Akira lifted himself up on his elbow and kissed Akechi’s cheek, “Good morning.”

Akechi cracked an eye open, “You woke me up with your obnoxious stretch.”

The boy over him laughed, laying back down, preening in the early morning sun, “Liar. You were already awake. You always wake up right before me. Like you’re trying to race me to the alarm clock.” 

Akechi rolled over, watching the way the suncatcher in the window played a beautiful rainbow over his lovers face.

Akira was back to dozing, face turned slightly away from the window. He couldn’t resist. Akechi leaned forward and kissed him. He poured everything into that kiss. His regret, his love, his anger, hatred, and passion. And Akira sensed it. Gunmetal grey eyes opened, perfectly alert as he pressed Akechi onto his back. He straddled the detective’s hips and bit down on his lip roughly, pulling a surprised moan from him.

“Where did that come from, Detective?”

Those eyes no longer belonged to Akira, but Joker. Mischievous and playful and sultry. Goading Akechi to play along. To spend all day in this bed fighting for dominance and secretly _loving_ when Akira won. To be pinned under him, a slave to his whims. That was a servitude Akechi would be glad to owe.

Akira saw the sadness and frowned, leaning back, “Goro?”

He sat up, moving Akira off his lap and moved to hunt for his clothes, “Our relationship stops today, Kurusu.”

“Trying to push me away again?” Pain tainted his voice, but not as much as Akechi hoped.

“You know we can’t do this.”

“Says who?!”

Akira was standing, brow furrowed and trying to understand. Akechi reached out, gently moving a strand of hair out of the younger man’s face,

“Goro, things can change. Let us help you. Let me-”

“It’s just not possible. I’ll see you when we send the calling card.”

…

Akira knew, on a practical level, that he shouldn’t have fallen for Goro. But he also knew that Goro still held feelings for him. He knew why Goro walked away. Why he tried to hurt him. Sitting in the interrogation room, Akira felt despondent. He convinced Sae to believe him. He would live. But he also knew Goro was going to try to kill him today. He was just grateful he wouldn’t have to watch. To look at his face as he pulled the trigger.

His friends held a celebration when he returned home. He was bruised and battered and had to stop by Takemi’s clinic to fix a few broken ribs, but he was happy. He was loved and he loved in return. So why did part of him feel so empty. He could momentarily forget his pain, when Ryuji gave a very emotional speech and when Sae and Makoto hugged, tears streaming down both of their cheeks.

It always came back. He did a fairly decent job hiding it from everyone but Futaba. To his friends' credit, they hadn’t known about his relationship with the detective. Futaba only knew because she bugged both of their phones.

He sat alone on a stool, watching steam rise from his cup, when Futaba plopped next to him, nearly elbowing him in the ribs, then vocally chastising herself,

“Bad Futaba. He had his ribs broken. No elbows.”

Akira snorted and looked at her, “Thank you for resisting, Futaba.”

She looked pained and gently reached out to touch his bruised cheek, “They really did a number on you…”

The room had grown silent. No more jokes and friendly jabs. They watched Akira with somber expressions. Akira self consciously pulled his sleeves further over his bruised wrists and turned back to his coffee,

“Yeah, well. Better than being dead.”

His poor attempt at a joke fell flat, and he could feel the apologies forming on his friends tongues. He turned in his stool and offered a smile, “Guys. It’s fine, really. I’ll heal. Takemi is a good friend and an even better doctor. It’s just some bruising.”

It wasn’t just some bruising. He had to get a tooth pulled (That was shattered when he was kicked in the face), seven stitches on his head, wrapping around his ribcage and a brace for the leg that was nearly broken. 

It was pretty clear his friends knew he was lying too. Sae was the first to speak up, “Kurusu-kun. I’m so sorry. What they did was unacceptable. That kind of behavior is abhorrent. What the police force has come to…” She shook her head in disbelief.

“That’s why we’re here, right?” he stood, forcing Joker’s easy swagger to take over, “To reform society? I’ll gladly endure police brutality if I can stop it from happening to someone else.”

The room was silent again, as his friends processed his words, broken finally by Ryuji exclaiming, “That’s our leader!” and prompting another toast.

They celebrated fairly late into the night, finally dispersing in time to catch the last train. Akira cleaned the cafe, secretly rejoicing in the silence that surrounded him. Morgana went with Haru with the promise of fatty tuna and Sojiro left long before his friends had. Only Futaba remained, and she celebrated the silence as much as he did.

Maybe.

As he finished the dishes, she spoke up from her spot at a booth, “So, you and the Prince Detective?”

He resisted the urge to groan and settled on ignoring her. He was exhausted. Hadn’t slept since they entered the palace, save the few hours he passed out during interrogation, and he was not in the mood for another interrogation.

She moved closer, “He shot you, Akira.”

He pretended more dishes needed washing, grabbing the large pot off the stove and turning the water to a scalding temperature. He bit the inside of his cheeks and prayed she got the message to fuck off.

She didn’t.

“Listen, Akira. You liked him, and I get that, but your relationship couldn’t have been healthy. He tried to kill you!”

“I know!” His sudden outburst brought a startled squeak from Futaba and he roughly rubbed his hands over his face, taking a deep breath and pushing his hair out of his face before he continued, “I’m sorry, Futaba. I didn’t mean to yell, I’m just… I’m tired.”

“Y-you’re more than tired. You’re hurt. Not just physically! A-and we put that on you! I coulda… You coulda d-died and…. It woulda been m-my fault…”

Akira needed her to leave. His normal brotherly love for her was gone, and he found himself irritated. His body hurt. His heart hurt. He was exhausted in every sense of the word. He was standing only by sheer will, and she was playing the victim. He tried to remind himself that she probably wasn’t doing it on purpose. That she once was a victim and didn’t know any other way to reach out.

But he needed to melt down. He needed to lower his guard and scream, and cry, and just _feel._ Something he couldn’t do with Futaba around.

He drained the sink, taking the time to come up with his next words.

“Futaba, I can’t-” the burning urge to cry interrupted his attempt to make her leave. His resolve was shattering. He looked at the ceiling and counted to ten, “I can’t offer much comfort right now… I think I’d like to be alone, please.” The last part of his sentence came out just barely above a whisper.

He heard her turn to the door, “I get it. More than most, I think. I’m not so good at this comfort stuff but… I’ll text you in the morning.” the jingle of the door was the only goodbye she got in return.

Akira managed to hold himself together long enough to lock up and flop down in his bed. The smell of Akechi was gone. Washed out the other night when Akira was cleaning the attic. He felt so adolescent as tears spilled onto his pillow. How stereotypical, crying into his pillow after a ‘break up’. Though his break up was a little more… explosive.

He fought the urge to scream when his phone chirped from his pocket. He lifted it, ready to shut it off and try to sleep when he saw the sender.

_[Akechi - 11:36pm] I miss you._

His heart stopped in his chest. Does he know? He didn’t dare open the message, lest Akechi see and _actually_ know. He swiped the lock screen and messaged Futaba,

_[Akira - 11:40pm] Akechi just texted me._

_[Futaba - 11:40pm] WHAT?!_

_[Akira - 11:41pm] Can’t you see it?_

_[Futaba - 11:41pm] I don’t make a habit of spying on you. You’re allowed privacy, you know._

Akira smiled, grateful that she didn’t resent him for his outburst. 

_[Futaba - 11:42pm] Smiling at your phone? Is that for me? UWU_

_[Akira - 11:42pm] Yes, Futaba. Thank you. We should warn everyone else._

She immediately texted the main chat,

_[Futaba - 11:43pm] Akechi is texting Akira. Don’t think he knows anything, but stay on your toes!_

_[Makoto - 11:44pm] Akira, are you okay?_

_[Akira - 11:44pm] Yeah, it just surprised me._

_[Ryuji - 11:45pm] Why would he be texting you tho?_

_[Ann - 11:46pm] Isn’t it obvious?_

_[Yusuke - 11:46pm] Are you aware of who you’re talking to?_

_[Ryuji - 11:46pm] Rude!_

_[Haru - 11:47pm] Whatever the reason, this is concerning. Futaba, will you keep an eye on the situation? Monitor Akechi-kun?_

_[Futaba - 11:47pm] Yes ma’am! G’night everyone!_

Akira turned off his phone. He didn’t trust himself not to message Akechi back. His mind whirled. Did Akechi really miss him? Maybe he regretted what he did? Maybe their relationship was salvageable. He got no sleep that night.

...

The texts from Akechi didn't stop. Over the next few days, they would appear every few hours

_[Akechi - 1:17pm 11/21/20XX] I wish I could undo the last week._

_[Akechi - 3:54am 11/22/20XX] Can't sleep without you anymore. You dick._

_[Akechi - 8:42am 11/22/20XX] I hate these interviews. I hate having to remember you._

_[Akechi - 2:45pm 11/23/20XX] Saw someone who looked like you today. Wish I could hug you._

_[Akechi - 6:23am 11/24/20XX] I've made a mistake._

_[Akechi - 7:40am 11/24/20XX] Saw Takamaki and Sakamoto at the train station today. They looked better than I feel. Missing you still hurts... kinda pisses me off too_

…

Shido’s Palace

Feeling good after beating the sweeper, the group of thieves started towards the exit, ready to send the calling card.

Then Akechi showed up. Akira felt his heart break again, as they fought each other. It was hard won. Akechi was ruthless and edged on crazy and it was all the thieves could do to stay standing.

Then his double showed up. Gun aimed at his head, like he did to Akira. A cleverly shot bullet and the space between them was getting cut off. Akechi would die.

Akira screamed, rushing forward to grab him. To help. The two of them could surely fight the shadows off. But Makoto and Ryuji grabbed him. Sensing his pain, his dread, his desire to protect, Arsene plunged into the fray and threw Akechi through the doors, into the arms of the thieves. 

…

Akechi woke in a familiar room, staring up at little plastic glow-in-the-dark stars. He was alone, laying on Kurusu’s bed. He sat up, and spotted his clothes, folded neatly next to the bed. As he started getting dressed, he heard footsteps on the stairs.

Akira’s dark mop of hair poked over the bannister, “Goro, I’m glad you’re awake. Hungry?”

Akechi stared at him in disbelief, “What… I tried to kill you and you’re feeding me??”

Akira smiled and set the tray of curry and coffee on the bed, “Well, yeah. You missed me.” He winked, hinting at his double meaning and Akechi couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“But… we were destined to fight. To kill each other. Only one of us can be-”

Akira interrupted him with a peck to the lips,

“I changed fate. Rewrote the stars, as it were.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You asked and I delivered. I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it. 
> 
> Again, trigger warning with homophobic parents!
> 
> Happy ending

Five Years Later, December 23rd

Akira sat cross-legged on his second hand couch, staring at the newest email sent to his work address from a colleague. He worked in the Diet building, quietly but efficiently moving his way up the chain of command. 

The email read;

_Kurusu,_

_You’ll be at the Christmas office party, right? I heard someone say a bunch of ambassadors from foreign governments will be there. Anyway, Umi in HR asked me to reach out, since you haven’t RSVP’d. Respond, ya dick head._

_See you,_

_Yuki_

The office party. He’d conveniently forgotten about it. Christmas was an unpleasant time for him on average. He loved the festivities, but when he met with his old friends, it always brought a note of melancholy. Christmas Eve was the day they fought a god. A day they thought for certain they would die.

He had ignored the encroaching holiday possibly as a coping mechanism. He always had the same nightmare the day before December 24th. Always the same gut wrenching fear that woke him in a cold sweat and a few times made him so nauseous, he’d had to run to the bathroom.

The door to his apartment opened, pulling his attention away from the screen. He smiled as Goro Akechi walked in, arms full of shopping bags and a phone plastered to his ear.

“Yes, Sae, I understand, but the defendant is in the wrong this time! It’s like that damn scene from Chicago!” He caught Akira’s eye and mouthed ‘sorry’ then continued into the phone, “You know the one, ‘He ran into my knife five times’ or whatever it is?”

Akira couldn’t resist, turning back to his phone with a little smile, “Ten times.”

Goro moved the phone, “What, baby?”

“Cell Block Tango. He ran into my knife ten times…”

Goro was quiet for a moment, before speaking back into the phone, “I’m still here, yea. No problem, Sae, we’ll talk more after the holidays… Yep, bye.”

Akira felt his fiance’s gaze on him as he moved about the apartment, setting down his bags and taking off his coat. He played idly with his phone, spinning it on his finger until Goro sat next to him and gently moved it to the table.

Akira looked at him, and Goro sighed, “Right… it’s that time of year again. I’ll count my blessings you don’t choose to remember the day I…”

The younger man laughed, “The day you almost shot me? No… Watching you disappear was far more painful.” he reached out and pushed a lock of hair behind Goro’s ear, then frowned, “We need to cut your hair. It’s getting long again.”

“I’d rather we pay someone to do it. You aren’t the best with a pair of scissors.”

Akira pretended to be hurt, dramatically slapping a hand over his heart, “How dare you! I am an artist with a blade!”

“A blade, yes.” Goro grabbed his jaw and kissed him fiercely, growling when he felt Akira shift to straddle him, “No, baby. We gotta wrap presents. Your parents are coming over tonight too, or did you forget?”

Sounding convincingly like a child, Akira whined, “Why did you even invite them over? They don’t support our relationship, you know. Why couldn’t we have invited… Sojiro! Or- or… Ryuji and Ann. Or even-”

Goro shook his head and stood, dumping Akira onto the floor, “Because they all join us for our Christmas celebration. With everyone. I just wanna give your folks a try. One last chance before you disown them.”

The man on the floor pouted, then stood, “Fine. I’ll put some clothes on and we can start cleaning.”

…

The meal was predictably awful. The food was great, Goro convinced Akira to make Sojiro’s Curry and it was as delicious as always, but the company left much to be desired. Akira’s pointed ‘I told you so’ look coming out full force when his mother tried to convince them to ‘try out women’ and his father expressed doubts about them actually being happy together.

“You know, son. You should get a soft sweet lady. How about that Niijima girl? Good hips on that one, she’d make you good children. Seems the obedient type too, every man needs an obedient wife.”

Akira sighed into his third glass of wine and set it down, “Dad, surprisingly enough, I don’t want a slave. Not to mention Makoto is _also_ gay. Goro and I are both working our dream jobs, saving up money to buy our own place. Kids aren’t really at the forefront of our needs right now.”

“But he’s a _guy.”_

Rage unfurled in his gut, and he gritted his teeth, “I happen to like guys, dad.”

His mother spoke up at the most inopportune time, “What about a butch lady, hmm? Surely they have things to offer you that this young man cannot? Won't you reconsider your engagement?”

“Don’t speak about Goro as if he isn’t here, mother.”

“All I’m saying is that the two of you together is… well, it’s unnatural.”

“We’ve been through this before. I don’t care if you ‘believe’ that I’m gay, but I’m not changing anytime soon. I will marry Goro, with or without your support.”

His father scowled, “Wonder if those Phantom Thieves would have changed your heart. Gay people don’t exist, Akira. It's just a rebellious phase.”

“Okay, you guys can leave.” Akira was at his wits end, setting down his silverware and levelling a blank stare at the old couple across the table.

“Who put that stick up your ass boy? Oh wait.”

Akira barely had time to be offended when Goro spoke up, “You two should really not speak to him like that. He’s your son, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and he will not be marrying the likes of you. A detective gone lawyer? Pathetic.”

“Excuse me?!”

Akira’s mother shook her head, “To think, you were so promising, speaking out against those thieves. You had a good pick of women and yet you decided to corrupt our baby boy…”

Akira forced a laugh, “No, mom. I’m not corrupted. This isn’t a choice we made. I didn’t decide I liked dick. At least Goro and I have a relationship built on mutual trust and respect.”

She bristled, “What are you implying?”

“Dad treats you like a slab of meat. Or did you forget when I was seven, home sick from school and he bent you over the oven, in full view of your child, and said he was going to breed you again?”

The slap rang through the small apartment, even before Akira felt the pain. His mother slapped him. They had never hit him before.

Goro stood from his seat, knocking into the table and sending wine crashing to their floor.

Looking down at Akira’s parents with disgust, he pointed to the door, “Get out.”

They stared at him, aghast. Then, as if on cue (probably practiced) his mother burst into tears. His father pulled her close to him, standing with her and glaring at Akira,

“You are a disgrace to this family. I wish you had never been born. You see the pain you put your mother and I through? We should have let Shido-san clap you in irons and let you rot in jail!”

Goro walked past them and grabbed their coats from the hanger by the door, before wrenching the door open and throwing the expensive wool out into the hallway, and waiting for them to leave.

They stopped just outside the door to turn a baleful glare towards Akira, “You’re dead to me.” 

Goro slammed the door shut, locking the handle and throwing the deadbolt. He just stood, one hand on the handle, and the other pressed against the wall next to the bolt.

After taking a few steadying breaths, Goro looked at Akira. He was sitting silently at the table, staring down at his hands. Goro approached and gently placed a hand on Akira’s shoulder, feeling him trembling. A soft mournful sound escaped him as he pulled Akira up and into his arms. He held him close, whispering soft words of comfort and felt the exact moment Akira broke, sobbing into Goro’s shirt.

After an unknown length of time, both of them had shed their share of tears. They both downed a few glasses of water and migrated to the couch, temporarily ignoring the food on the table. Goro held Akira as they scanned through movies, settling on a child’s cartoon about a bunch of dogs.

Guilt gnawed at Goro, “Akira…?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I had… I didn’t realize the extent of…” He wasn’t sure how to continue, but Akira saved him from digging his hole bigger, 

“It’s always been like that. From what I’ve heard it’s fairly common… I don’t know why it hurt so bad today though. Maybe because of… yeah, the way they talked about you. Like you weren’t sitting next to me. Like you were just a pair of shoes that I could exchange…”

He swiped at his eyes and turned in Goro’s lap to face him, “I love you. I love you so goddamn much.”

Goro kissed him softly, gently wiping a stray tear before settling deeper into the couch, “I love you too, Akira. With everything I am.”

They both fell asleep curled together on their couch, tv volume low and lights dimmed.

…

There were bones in the city. Not like animal bones, or anything on a small scale. Bloody looking ribcages the size of skyscrapers, jutting spinal columns taking place of the subway station. Blood rained from the sky and no one seemed to care. People went about their regular days, as if the sun was shining.

The first to collapse was Futaba. Then one by one, the Phantom Thieves were brought to their knees by the whim of society.

Watching his friends disappear was the hardest part. The fear of dying was pretty awful, yea, but Akira had far too much experience with near-death encounters to really feel the weight. The world was corrupted and all he could mourn was the terrified looks his team gave him. Akechi was the last to go.

For the first time in their relationship, they held hands in public.

In the eyes of the public that stopped believing in them.

The sky bled onto his face. The sharp rotten stench of Mementos filled his nose, a thick liquid poured into his mouth and nose, choking him. His eyes filled with the stuff and he felt it consume him. Pull him down into a never-ending stasis of drowning.

…

Akira jolted awake, crying out in horror, startling Goro back from the edge of the couch.

He must have looked crazed, because Goro held his hands up, as if trying to befriend a feral dog, 

“Babe, it’s just me… you’re at home, we’re both safe.”

Akira worked to slow his breathing. To match pace with Goro. Once his heart rate was back to normal, he rubbed his hands over his face. He set his hands down and nodded to his worried lover,

“I’m okay. It was… just different this time.”

“Can I touch you?”

Goro always made sure touch was okay. When Akira was panicking or woke up from a particularly nasty night terror it was often hard to tell what he needed. Goro always checked. Do you need touch? Should I leave you alone?

Akira reached out for him, standing into his embrace, “Did I wake you?”

He felt his laugh, “No, thank god. I woke up earlier to put the food away, then decided to stay up and catch up on presents.”

Akira nodded and pulled away, “I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”

Goro simply shrugged and handed Akira his phone, “This blasted thing has been going off since five.”

He wrinkled his nose at the innocent piece of electronic components, “Probably another email. Wanna go to a work Christmas Party?”

Goro had turned to continue cleaning and simply shook his head, making Akira smile. His fiance was the best excuse to skip these cringe-worthy events. He fired off a short email to HR declining the invite and walked into their little kitchen to brew coffee.

“Today is the 24th, right?”

He could hear Goro from beyond the wall, probably in the master bathroom,

“Yeah, why?”

“Everyone will be meeting up at Leblanc in about an hour. Still up for it?”

“That should be my question. You gonna be okay?”

It was a legitimate concern, but Akira needed to see his friends. Needed to make sure they still lived. Still thrived.

“Yeah. We should get there early. Help Sojiro.”

Goro walked around the corner, freshly showered and dressed to the nines. Akira leaned against the counter and stared, “Fuck me, you’re hot.”

“Maybe after the party. Go shower.”

Akira smirked and kissed him, pressing their hips together until Goro dislodged and smacked his ass, causing him to giggle and trot to the bathroom. The shower was much needed and he changed into a red button up, black tie, and black slacks. This was his armor after losing Joker. The same color scheme.

He walked back out and grabbed his house keys, “Presents?”

Goro held up a laundry basket of them, “Here. Do we have to take the train?”

“A taxi will do.”

They muscled their haul into the trunk of a taxi and directed the driver to Yongen-Jaya. The trip was short and they tipped well, grateful that the driver parked them on the closer side to Leblanc (Even if it was accidental) and wished him a happy holiday. 

Akira opened the door to Leblanc for Goro and they both sighed in relief at the mouth watering aroma of coffee.

“Oh, Sojiro _please_ gift me with a cup of your coffee?”

The old man behind the counter laughed and began to brew, “You know all my secrets, kid. Why can’t you make it yourself?”

“It’s never as good.” Akira helped Goro set down the basket of gifts at a table and they both perched on the stools at the bar, watching Sojiro work like kids in a candy shop.

It turned out Sojiro was entirely prepared for the army of guests that would be arriving, so Goro and Akira ended up gossiping with the man. 

Friends started arriving almost an hour later, first was Makoto and Haru holding hands and carrying bags of gifts. Then Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, and Futaba showed up with Morgana in tow. Late, as usual was Sumire. They held their celebration over curry and coffee and unwrapped gifts with childlike abandon.

Yusuke started the gift giving by presenting each person a painting depicting a very accurate representation of them as Phantom Thieves. Most gifts for Goro and Akira included money, as their sole aim was to buy their own house. Gifts for Haru and Makoto stemmed around stocking their new apartment, and everyone else got a wide variety. Ann was given cosmetics from the girls, a gift card from Ryuji, and a spa pass from Goro and Akira. Ryuji was given a gift card to his favorite ramen shop, new running shoes, and a pewter skull keychain that Akira commissioned from the States. Yusuke was also given money, mostly so he could eat. Futaba got a random assortment of action figures and a ‘United States Exclusive’ copy of a video game. Morgana got a gift card to a sushi place that served fatty tuna. And Sumire got a new phone, with the demand that she doesn’t break this one.

Haru looked at Akira, both of them shared a small grin before excusing themselves outside. The rest of their friends watched them leave in confusion. They weren’t gone for long. Just enough to pull their gift out of Haru’s waiting limo. Akira carried two large bags inside, and set them on the counter, grinning as Haru trotted in after him, setting a large box of brand new mugs down. They both turned to Sojiro and, in unison, called out,

“Merry Christmas!”

Sojiro laughed and walked over, “This wasn’t necessary, you two!”

Haru blushed, “Well, in truth it was actually from all of us. Akira and I worked behind our friends backs and took monetary donations, promising to get you the best gift we knew how…”

Akira moved one of the bags off the counter, “They’re new coffee beans. Haru managed to find a supplier that specialized in... “

He looked at her and frowned, “You could say, fancy? Coffee beans?”

Sojiro watched them, “Fancy? Fancy how?”

“Uh… you remember when I came back home after hanging out with Haru, I brought that cup of coffee that you mentioned tasted really unique and how much you would’ve liked to be able to play with the acidity and such…?”

Catching on, their friends started giggling, only making Sojiro more suspicious,

“Yes.”

“These are the beans! Already roasted and ready for grinding.”

“What’s the catch?”

Haru grimaced, “Well… It’s called Kopi Luwak. And… it’s collected from the feces of the Asian palm civet.”

“Feces?”

“Perfectly safe!! I’m sorry if it was too presumptuous!”

Akira felt his heart drop, “Sojiro, keep an open mind. It’s actually pretty good.”

To his credit, Sojiro’s expression hadn’t changed from his original grin. He looked at the bag and nodded, “Alright. Akira, give me a hand? Let’s give it a try.”

…

As the sun neared the horizon, the group formerly known as the Phantom Thieves went their separate ways. 

Akira walked home with Goro, hand in hand, both bundled in their coats against the cold. The usually bustling city was relatively silent, allowing them a brief moment of calm.

Goro looked over at Akira, “When should we have our wedding?”

For a moment it seemed Akira wouldn’t respond, as he just watched the first snow fall around them. He finally turned to face Goro, “Let’s have it in the mountains.”

“Babe, I said _when_ not where.” he couldn’t keep the laugh from his voice, watching his usually sharp fiance look around as if dazed.

“Oh… hmm… winter. Maybe mid-January?”

“Winter in the mountains? Do you want our guests to freeze to death?”

“We can have warming lights. I just…” he stopped walking, pulling Goro to a stop, “You look so handsome in your coat. And the snow is so romantic.” Akira looked up at the sky, smiling as a few flakes stuck to his oil black lashes and blinking them away.

Goro admired him, black coat and hair contrasting pure white snow. His read button up a splash of life in his monochrome world. He admired the pink tint to Akira’s cheeks, the matching pink of his lips, still warm from when he’d wrapped his scarf around his neck. His grey eyes had little specks of color in them. Green, and blue, and brown, and black. 

Akira cocked his head to the side, “Love? Is there something on my face?”

Goro reached out and wiped a snowflake off Akira’s nose, “Not anymore… and you’re right. It is romantic. Let’s do it. Maybe have the ceremony at dusk? Backlit by the setting sun?”

“You sap.”

They continued walking as one,

“Or at night. So we can see those stars you claimed to have rewritten all those years ago.”


End file.
